


High School MuZuko

by Dawn_Locke



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender, High School Musical (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, HSM!AU, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 01:07:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10478640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawn_Locke/pseuds/Dawn_Locke
Summary: Katara and Zuko meet while on vacation at the Northern Moon Ski Resort.This strange chance encounter may just change Avatar High forever.(I take a few liberties with relationships and personality, as I am mashing together characters.This fic is an exercise in mashup and a way to open my brain pre-Camp NaNo.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Northern Moon Ski Resort  
> New Year's Eve

      ‘Sing to me one song for joy and one for redemption.’  
-Josh Groban, “Bells of New York City”

 

            “Again, Zuko.” The young man obeyed, laying up the ball, hoping for the square to take the basketball right into the net. It missed and he flinched as his father shouted. “ _ Again _ , Zuko.”

            He caught the ball as it bounced back and went again. Coach Ozai would tell him when to stop, but it was unlikely that his father would let him go after such an easy slip up on the court, his home turf.

            “Brother, Nephew.” Zuko didn't allow himself to smile when he turned toward his uncle. But Iroh always knew just when he was needed.

            “Iroh, why are you interrupting practice?”

            “Oh, no reason in particular. It is only an hour to the new year and Zuko needs to spend the last of his vacation with other people his age.” Zuko let slip a rare smile; he'd almost forgotten that it was New Year's Eve. He had been practicing basketball all week, barely having time to ski or relax. His smile disappeared when his father spoke.

            “Iroh, you know Zuko has to be ready for the Championships.” Zuko went back to lay-ups, focusing only on the feel of the basketball, rough against his calloused fingertips. He heard one of them, distantly, say “10 minutes”, then heard “5”, “7”. Zuko managed a few two-pointers and three-pointer before he heard a sharp, “Zuko.”

            “Yeah, da- Coach?” He stood, panting, holding the ball under his elbow.

            “Go to the party. But be ready to drill at 8 a.m.” Iroh was smiling one of his secretive smiles; he considered it a win. Zuko agreed.

            “Thank you, Coach.” Ozai continued to drill alone, the harsh sounds of his dribbles following the boy and his uncle as they left.

            “I've drawn a nice hot bath for you, Zuko,” Iroh was saying. “Who knows, maybe you'll meet a girl!” Zuko's laugh was soft and breathless, but a flicker passed behind his amber eyes.

_             As if some girl would like me. _

_ \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ _

            She was sitting on one of the Northern Moon’s lounge sofas when a pair of weathered dark hands pulled the book of Tai Chi history out of her own.

            “Katara, it’s New Year’s Eve. Enough reading.” The stern woman looked down at her granddaughter, who pouted up at her, reaching for the slim blue volume.

            “Gran-Gran, I’m almost done. Please-” The old woman cut her off.

            “The teen party? Sokka’s already there and I was supposed to meet your father at the Snowbank Tavern down the hall to talk about the move. Go get ready; I’ve laid out your best clothes.” Katara thought of protesting, but living with Kanna for the last three years had taught her better than to fight back when it came to socializing.

            “Can I at least have my book back?” Katara stood and looked at her grandmother imploringly. Kanna relented, handing back the history book, and Katara smiled as bright as the moon. “Thank you, Gran-Gran.”

            When she edged her way into the party twenty minutes later,  the young woman pulled at her blue cardigan nervously as she looked around the room. Katara, book still in hand, saw her brother up on a small stage singing with a platinum blonde-haired girl. Sokka was way too into it and was actually pretty okay, and the girl seemed to be into him, too. The sight made her smile and she was only a little off-put when a stranger in a huge cowboy hat gave her a polite “howdy”. 

            Katara found a nice spot in an easy chair by a cheery fire, letting her brother have his fun. After all, they would be leaving tomorrow afternoon, and she was sure that the two singing that mushy song together would spend at least the countdown cuddling. She laughed to herself, opening her book once more.

_ \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ _

            Zuko made his way in, pulling at his black blazer. His uncle had convinced him to dress nicely, and, to be honest, he thought he looked kinda good. His shirt was white and embroidered with flames; his hair was brushed and gathered in a short ponytail at the nape of his neck. He laughed when he saw who was on the stage- Sokka, one of his classmates, teammates, and his best friend.

            When Sokka and the girl finished, the crowded room politely clapped. Zuko raised a hand in greeting, a smile on his face. That, apparently, had been the wrong thing to do. The host in charge of karaoke for the evening saw his hand and grinned, grasping his hand and pulling him toward the stage. Zuko’s frown evaporated and sheer panic overtook his senses.

            “No, no. I don’t don’t sing. Sokka, tell them- I, I don’t-” Sokka and the girl he sang with were nowhere to be found. It was too late. He was on the small raised stage in the center of the room, the microphone shoved into his hand. The only one who possibly looked more uncomfortable was the dark-haired girl pushed gently onto the platform beside him. The karaoke host was sly as he handed the girl the other mic.

            “One day you guys might thank me for this,” he was saying, with a casual shrug. “Or not.” He stepped off the stage, leaving the two of them and cuing up the music. Zuko swallowed a hard lump that had formed in his throat. As the first notes played, his eyes flickered between the lines of her sweater, shimmering under the twinkling icicle lights. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

_             Thank you, Uncle,  _ he thought, not for the first time that night.

_ \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ _

            This couldn’t get any worse. Katara trembled; singing was not, by any means, her favourite thing to do. Not in front of  _ people _ … But the music started and the boy she stood in front of smiled. She tried to mimic the smile, but her eyes kept flickering between his scarred face, raw and red like the flames on his shirt, and the crowd of faces all looking up at her. He could sense her discomfort, Katara knew, but she had never been good at hiding her thoughts.

            Then, he began to sing and she no longer  _ had  _ thoughts. 

            “-that anything can happen when you take a chance…” It was as if the only thing in the world that existed was the music. He turned as if to go when his verse was done, embarrassed… but it was her turn now. Katara didn’t want him to go, and soon he was joining her in harmony. It was as if he couldn’t believe  _ she _ had stayed. Her arms slowly uncrossed and a smile flitted across her features. They sounded good; the crowd was cheering.

            “I know- that something has changed, never felt this way.”

            “Oh, I know it for real-” she sang, really letting go. The two began the chorus again. The boy held out his hand to her and they were dancing, singing like it was natural. It felt like being a child, being open, being herself. He was into it now, being just as cheesy as Sokka had been, dipping the microphone down.

            “I never knew that it could happen, ‘til it happened to me-” They sang through the bridge and Katara edged backward, almost falling off the stage when a pair of hands pushed her back up into his chest, where they tangled together, finishing the duet.

            “My name is Zuko,” he said, panting, holding out a hand.

            “Katara.” She took it and they shook, and she was no longer afraid.

_ \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ _

            Zuko and Katara walked together out onto the balcony, hot tea clutched in their ungloved hands. He was in awe of her, the way the snow fell onto her hair, elaborately looped in braids to either side of her face. “But seriously,” he insisted, “you have an amazing voice. You're a singer right?”

            “Just in school choir is all. I tried to do a solo and nearly fainted. I took one look at all the people staring at me and next thing I knew I was staring at the ceiling.” She laughed, and it was just as striking as the first smile she gave him on that stage, electricity shooting through him. He was glad Azula had stayed home; she and her gal-pals, or whatever they called themselves, would be having a field day if they saw him melting his cool-guy exterior like this.

            “Well with the way you sang tonight, that's pretty hard to believe.” Zuko was being genuine, and Katara hummed softly, sipping her oolong tea.

            “Well you sounded like you've sung a lot, too,” she returned the compliment.  _ That’s a good sign, right?  _

            “Yeah, sure. My showerhead is very impressed with me,” Zuko joked, for the first time in what felt like forever. He took a sip of his jasmine tea as somewhere, the countdown began.  _ Had it really been so close to midnight? _ he wondered, looking first at the fireworks, then back to the captivating young woman in front of him. Katara looked back up at him before breaking the silence with a voice that betrayed her reluctance.

            “I guess I better go find my dad and wish him a happy new year.” She chewed her lower lip. “And my brother and Gran-Gran, too.”

            “Yeah, me too.” What was with him today? What was making him slip up so much? “I mean, not your dad. My dad... and uncle. Uh... I'll call you. I'll call you tomorrow? Here, my phone-” They took pictures of one another, smiling past their respective phones at the other, and dictated numbers over the roar of the New Year’s crowd. There were snow and bright light shining on Katara and for a second, on film, it looked like the stars had fallen from the very sky to light in her hair.

            “Just so you know, singing with you is the most fun I've had on this entire vacation. So um... where do you live?” Zuko looked up from the smiling picture of her to find that Katara was, well, gone. He returned to the picture of her in his phone, longingly tracing the lines of stars on his touchscreen. “Katara...”

            When Zuko returned to the presidential suite that his small family was sharing, he found his uncle awake with another cup of tea waiting and his father nowhere to be found. Iroh seemed smug.

            “So, you  _ did  _ find a girl?” Zuko shook his head and smiled. Uncle Iroh always knew just when he was needed.


End file.
